I was going to say something...

I had this other deep, contemplative entry all planned out while I was in the shower last night (at like 1:30 AM), but then I went to bed and I forgot what it was about. So never mind that.

I've just been dancing/working out like a maniac idiot all around my room for about 45 minutes now and now I'm all sweaty and gross. I need a shower. I also need to wash my hair.

It's strange though; if I don't prance around my room to loud music at least once a day, my shoulders end up feeling uncomfortably sore and I do strange things. Yesterday was solid proof of this.

I got Pokémon Black in English! ... Except it's not a legit version, so whatever. If I do end up getting an Isshu/Unova game, it'll probably be the third version just because I always end up liking third versions and I really wish I'd have gotten Platinum instead of Pearl now.

Speaking of which, I'm still getting used to the English names of all the new Gen V mons. Some things like Purrloin and Patrat and Volcarona I've gotten used to, but others like Monmen/Cottonee and Erufuun/Whimsicott-or-however-you-spell-it and Futachimaru/Dewott and Sazandora/Hydreigon (I still read it as Hydrogen sometimes)... not so much. But I'm getting better? :D

Okay, off the Pokémon speak now. (No, not that Pokémon Speak.)

I'm kind of tired now. Finished Bio summative yesterday. In like four hours. From scratch. Meaning, from not even knowing what my topic was. (Though granted, I basically just picked a random topic and said "sure why not", so that wasn't exactly a huge leap xD;)

I don't know.

I keep getting the feeling that the mood shifts too quickly. And clumsily. And the characterisation seems sloppy. And the writing is lacy and stuffy as always. galsdjfff.

---

“I hate summer,” Chelsea grumbled, dropping her bags onto the weathered stone path. She straightened up and wiped a bare arm across her forehead, which was now slicked with sweat. “Why couldn’t we have waited until autumn to move here again?”

“Because that’s a whole season away and we already bought the farm,” Mark replied from several paces in front of her. He glanced over his shoulder to see the brunette glaring at him with raised eyebrows, and then hastily backtracked in his words. “Okay fine—I bought the farm.” Pause. “Without telling you first. I know, I know,” he said loudly as Chelsea opened her mouth, “you already screamed at me for hours about it, back in our old apartment. But hey, nobody said you had to come with me.”

“I did not scream for hours,” Chelsea insisted defensively, her blue eyes narrowing. “And also, if you think I’m just going to let my idiot of a roommate skip off on his own and possibly drown himself in the ocean or something stupid—”

“Oh, shut up,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not you, okay? I actually have brains.”

“I can think of plenty of instances to contradict that,” she retorted. “Such as that one time when you panicked while swimming and forgot you could get out of a pool without a ladder. There’s the school-famous dumb jock for you right there.”

“Chels, that was five years ago. And besides,” the blond added with a teasing smirk, “you were panicking too. Wasn’t that the first time you actually cried over me? Or were there incidents before that I just didn’t see?”

“Shut it, you.” The urge to snatch up one of the bulging bags at her feet and whack him with it was overwhelming. Knowing that neither her strength nor her reflexes matched up to Mark’s though, Chelsea settled instead for picking up her load again and storming over to catch up with her friend. “Fine then, I won’t worry about you anymore. When you die, I call your books. All of them,” she added, jerking her head towards the suitcase that Mark was pulling, its wheels rattling against loose pebbles as he lugged it over the uneven road.

“Nerd,” Mark chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Oi, you two! Bandana girl and overalls kid!”

The smile on the blond’s face faded as he turned to face the new voice, whose tall, apron-wearing owner was striding over from the direction the pair was walking in. “What did you just call me?” he demanded, torn between mild amusement at the nicknames and annoyance at his nickname in particular.

“Overalls kid.” The speaker, a girl sporting salmon-pink hair and a frying pan slung casually over her shoulder, pointed at Mark’s outfit with a shadow of derision in her expression. “You know, since you’re wearing—”

“Overalls, yeah, I think I’ve realised that,” Mark interrupted testily. “I was talking more about the ‘kid’ part, since why you would call me that is beyond me. Unless you actually are an old woman whose crapload of makeup is hiding your wrinkles—”

“Excuse me?” the girl snapped, her cheeks immediately flaring up. Her brown eyes reflected her aggression as she pointed the frying pan straight at Mark’s face like a sword. “First, I’ll have you know that I never wear that disgusting stuff, and I never will,” she snarled. “And second, I’m only turning twenty-one this year, which is probably still older than a stupid teenager like you, so don’t think you have the right to—”

“I’m flattered that you appreciate my youthful looks,” Mark cut in, placing a hand over his heart in mock gratitude, “but the sad truth is, my twenty-first already passed a long time ago. So you’re a bit late to the punch there, Peachhead. Sorry.”

She bristled at the less-than-mature nickname. “How do you put up with him?” she suddenly demanded of Chelsea, who gave a start when the stranger began rounding on her. The height difference between the two females soon became very evident as the pink-haired girl towered over the tiny brunette with a murderous look on her face.

Chelsea avoided her glare and her answer came out in a mutter. “You know, sometimes I wonder that myself... you have no idea.”

“Hey, whose side are you on anyway?” Mark pouted, his suitcase hitting the ground with a heavy thump as he dropped the handle and put his hands indignantly on his hips. Now having gained an ally, the girl smirked at him and threw an arm around Chelsea’s shoulders, a staggering contrast to her hostility just moments before.

“See?” she said triumphantly. “Even your girlfriend can’t stand you, you jerk.”

“Oh no, I’m not his girlfriend,” Chelsea corrected her quickly. “Mark’s my best friend, but we’re not... you know, dating or anything.”

The stranger nodded sceptically. “Uh-huh. Sure. Because a guy and a girl would totally move into the same house by themselves when they’re ‘just friends’, or whatever the shit you want to call it.”

“I’m not lying,” Chelsea grumbled as the girl released her shoulders, but then did a double take. “Wait, hold on—how do you know we’re living in the same house?”

“Well, aren’t you the newest city people who bought the farm?” she asked, beginning to walk away and beckoning for them to follow.

“Er... sure. I mean, yes. Yes, we are.” Chelsea decided not to launch into the story of Mark’s blatant disregard for open communication and asking for permission. Heaving her luggage along, she trailed after the stranger with Mark grudgingly bringing up the rear; he was clearly not impressed with the explosive welcome to their new home so far. Sensing his obvious bad mood, Chelsea took it upon herself to initiate introductions before he could open his mouth and spark another argument. “I’m Chelsea, by the way, and that’s Mark back there.”

“Cool. I’m Natalie.”

“Nice to meet you. I would shake and everything, but... yeah,” Chelsea finished lamely, indicating her occupied hands.

“Here, lemme help you with that.” Despite the brunette’s protests, Natalie wrestled a bulging brown rucksack out of her grip... and then promptly doubled over when Chelsea let go. “Oh—holy Goddess—”

“Tried to warn you,” Chelsea said, watching the other girl practically fall over from the weight of her new load.

“What the hell is in here?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Mark interjected helpfully from behind them. “Just some cans of food, some snacks, a few tools and, oh I don’t know, about fifty-billion clothes—”

“Don’t exaggerate, Mark,” Chelsea said, rolling her eyes. “Some of those are yours too, you know.”

“I’m not the one who packed a dozen dresses like I’m going to a cocktail party every night—”

“Oh come on, be fair. I only packed three—”

“You were complaining to me for days about how you couldn’t fit a fourth one in there!”

“You were complaining longer about how you couldn’t bring all of your trophies and crap! At least clothes are a necessity!”

“Are you sure you guys can live together without strangling each other?” Natalie asked as the two roommates glared daggers at each other. “I mean...” She stopped in front of the small, wooden house standing alone on Ranch Island—a shack, it could almost be called, with the state it was in—and scrutinised the rickety building with a critical eye. “Not that this is the best place ever to live in, but I’d hate to see its untimely demise at the hands of two idiots who bicker like an old married couple.”

“I told you, it’s not like that,” Chelsea groaned. The words came out more snappishly than she’d intended, and Natalie’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” she retorted in a similar tone, her friendliness slipping away. “I’ll leave you two friends alone then. Suppose you’re just itching to get out there and start failing at farming in any case.”

“Where’d that come from?” Mark suddenly hissed, indignation boiling up inside him.

“You city slickers know nothing,” Natalie said almost accusingly. “Nothing about the meaning of actual hard work... you think you can skip into this place and it’ll be a breeze. I’ve seen them, the whole stupid lot of them who come and go as soon as they make fools of themselves digging in the dirt out there. No backbone, any of them, it’s pathetic.”

“You’re being just as pathetic,” Mark said through clenched teeth. “Insulting our home and passing judgements on us before we even do anything. That’s like me saying you country hicks are all naïve and filthy—which looks like the truth for you at least, so I hope for your dignity the other people on these islands prove me wrong.”

He and Natalie exchanged dirty looks, but nothing more was said as Natalie dumped the rucksack onto the dry grass at their feet, turned on her heel, and then stalked off without a second glance back. Mark watched her go, his green eyes flashing with irritation, until she disappeared out of sight beyond the bridge leading to Verdure Island. “Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “That little bi—”

“Mark,” Chelsea interrupted warningly. They both remained silent for a few tense seconds before Mark stomped over to the rucksack, dropped to his knees onto the grass, and began wrenching old, second-hand farm tools out of pack with such force that the fabric nearly ripped.

“Fine,” he growled, more to himself than to Chelsea. “Fine. If you need proof, I’ll give you proof, you stupid, judgmental harpy. I don’t need any more people in my life telling me what I can and can’t do... I’ve had enough of that at home.”

And he stormed off towards the vast field behind their house, armed with a hammer in one hand and a chipped axe in the other, ready to tackle the mess of weeds, branches, and rocks littering the soil. Chelsea just sighed and put a hand to her temple as the sounds of violent chopping reached her ears. They had barely been on the islands for ten minutes, and already their new life was off to a rocky start.

This was definitely not what she had signed up for.

---

I need critique.

Andddd back.

Off the contemplative stuff now.

I decided on Snubbull and Togepi in the end.

Bio test today. Wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, surprisingly. Questions about plants kinda killed me though. Got eureka moments for those in like the last twenty/fifteen minutes. Also there was this one question I wanted to add a final note to, and I was writing like MACHSPEED trying to get it down in like the last ten seconds and then the bell rang and I was like "OHSHIT" and I practically scribbled down the final few words and if he can't read it it's not my fault.

Merrick called me out on my tiny, scribbly writing in Careers today, when I handed in the class assignment. She linked it with low self-esteem. Apparently I write small because I don't think much of myself...? (I'd hate to see what kind of state Van's self-esteem is in then. /shot)

Youth.

I pulled up a random word generator, and that was the first result it gave me. Which is kind of funny because, while I sit here listening to my pretty soundtracks and trying to study Bio without getting distracted, I realise I haven't been thinking much about... well, my life in general, really.

Especially now that I've started Careers, the whole thing is just slapping me hard and cold in the face. Where am I going? What am I doing with myself? How will I take care of myself years from now, when I'm all alone?

That last one really stung. My parents will be gone one day some way or another; it's inevitable in this reality. And I think about some of my friends—some of you who read this—and how I've heard you rail against your parents and express endless frustration with them, just short of flat-out saying "I hate you". I think it's unreasonable to tell you otherwise, because obviously I'm not you and I don't know firsthand what you're going through or what they do to you, but... I guess it just makes me a bit sad hearing you say things like that. Kids should love their parents, and parents should love their kids no matter how stupid or infallibly smart or irresponsible or rebellious or whatever they are. It just makes me a bit sad how, in a world in such desperate need of some love, I see hate in what should be one of the strongest, most loving bonds of all.

And then I look at that last question again, and then at the word generator, and... I'm not quite sure what came next. I'm still young. I'm still in high school. I still have plenty of friends and nigh family to lean on; I'm not alone just yet. By the time I pack up for university (I hope) though... the chances aren't great. We're going to graduate. We're all going to go our separate ways for good.

Would we still be alone though? I mean, barring the possibility that some of us may go to the same university... but just how much of our high school years will we carry with us? When Samara and Avery and Tiffany and Amir disappear next year, you can damn well bet the rest of us in Vocal Fusion will still be behind them, supporting them one hundred percent, no matter where they end up. And it'll still be that way when this year's grade elevens graduate next year, and then... well, then it's us. And that would be nearly the end; Jacob and Eric would be the only ones left from our shining debut year.

I realise I'm going way off on a tangent here, but... by the time Jacob and Eric are the last remaining ones in Vocal Fusion, me and everyone else in my year would be seventeen or eighteen and heading out into the world. I myself would be eighteen by that point... and then nineteen... and then twenty... and before I know it I'll be twenty-five... then thirty... then forty... then fifty... Goddess, where did my life go?

I daresay it won't pass that quickly though. Freaking out over school and looking for a job and finding that one special person and spending time with them and finding a house and planning a wedding and preparing for kids and getting promoted and paying off student loans and mortgage and

Would I still be alone by then?

... No. Even without the marriage (although I hope at the very least I'll have a steady boyfriend by age thirty o-O), I'm still idealistic enough to hold out hope that, even though you'll all be off being amazing somewhere else... I hope you'll still love me enough to stand behind me, supporting me one hundred percent. And I hope I'll still love you enough to deserve it.

So maybe I'm a loony. Maybe I am just a corny, pacifying, naïve girl who'll get nowhere in life... or at least nowhere exciting. That's fine; as long as I'm happy, and I help other people achieve that same happiness—because I know everyone deserves it—then that's my goal accomplished.

I'm sleepy.

At 8:40 PM. I should stop dancing so hard around my room.

I feel vaguely like a stalker. Not good?

Anyway, today was fairly uneventful. I guess. Science class was rife with Harry Potter references. Especially concerning magic and wizards and Gillyweed.

(upon learning that we used to have gills as embryos)
James: O: Hey, has there ever been anyone who was born with gills? And grew up with them?
Hazlewood: ... I think it has happened before, yeah.
Someone: Like in Harry Potter!
Hazlewood: >_> No, Gillyweed does not count.




On a completely unrelated note...

A message to ____: you're sexy.

... The person in question is probably not going to see that. Ever. Probably. Depending on certain circumstances. |D




So what's up, guys. I ended up not finding any sweet snacks for third period, although I did find a bag of curry-flavoured Pretz which I shared with an apparently starving Shandershon during Science review period.

Speaking of which, I has Bio test this Wednesday. Should be studying. Need to pull up 85% average. B|

Oh, that reminds me: midterms came today. Average 90.25%. Would complain, but people would probably get mad at me |D

Breakdown:
History — 85%. I'm pretty sure it's lower than the class median, but then again I don't particularly care for History. And also, according to Fander, "it's Bennett".

Science — 85%. Now this actually pisses me off. Or at least severely annoys me. Stupid Chem test. Stupid application. Need to study Bio instead of blogging right now.

Anthro — 97%. Mood whiplash; this does not piss me off nearly as much. :D Also, I believe Ms Woo mentioned that the class average is somewhere in the 80's which makes me a very happy camper.

Civics — 94%. Or 95%. Can't be bothered to pull out the paper to check. :P Not really sure what to say about this one. Yay?

In conclusion, ARGHSLDKFJALKHDGL SCIENCE.




... I need to get better hobbies.

Also, I don't understand FB chat.

And this two-dollar box of cookies tastes strange.

Okay, back to normal.

Or as normal as I presently can be, anyway.

Vocal Fusion is performing at Fashion Show. We're doing a Fighter/Dirty Pop/Sexy Back/Womanizer super-mash-up. We're cool. 8) (Ms C was slightly disturbed by our choice of Womanizer. "Why are you guys singing Britney Spears? It's not right! D8")

We discussed personalized hoodies on the Facebook group. Alyssa suggested we put nicknames on the sleeve. Eric was unaware that we had nicknames. Alyssa admitted that we don't, but we could make them. And then randomly nicknamed Eric "Oh-bama". And then me "Zou-bama". I showed my mom, because it was just too hilarious, and she said the last thing I expected her to say: "(after laughing) Can I call you Zou-bama from now on? :D"

Yeah, no.

Also, I posted that conversation from some time ago about my slip-up and inadvertent asking if one wears clothes to a fashion show. (That wasn't my intention, by the way.) I'm not sure if the fact that four people "liked" my stupidity should offend me or not.

Also, apparently Callum was present during that conversation. Was that the one we had on top of the main staircase? I can't remember. I vaguely remember Shander being there, but that's about it. For someone who picks up on lyrics relatively quickly, my memory tends to be frustratingly selective.

... In any case, I should stop talking about things that happen on FB.

I'M BRINGIN' SEXY BAAAACK

I'll shut up now.

So what's up, guys. I'm feeling surprisingly sleepy. At 9:10 PM. Not sure if this is something to be celebrated or concerned about.

Maybe it's because I've been exercising lately. Stupid fat legs. They're trolling me.

My parents neglected to buy me a bag of Pocky this week. I am shell-shocked and also slightly annoyed. Except the former may be a bit of an exaggeration.

Damn it. Now I have no class-appropriate snack, which means I can't troll people in my Science class and possibly annoy Hazlewood by snacking in the middle of third period.

... Speaking of Science, I have a Bio test this week. And a summative due next week. That I haven't started. At all. I don't even have a topic yet. This probably means I'm screwed.

... I'm going to go downstairs and look for prospective snacks for tomorrow's third period class. Byeguys.

ohgod.

Wasn't me.

So embarrassing.

Noticing a pattern?

Blah blah blah me blah blah blah wahhh blah blah blah blah wallow blah blah my life is so hard blah blah blah me me me me blah

This blog is a bucketful of immature complain dump. MY LIFE IS SO HARD AND TRAGIC AND I CAN HARDLY DEAL WITH ALL THIS SHIT WAHHH LOVE ME HOLD ME PITY ME I'M A CHILD

Fucking hell. There is so much wrong with me.

... I've also noticed that my mouth is getting progressively filthier. Perhaps this is a byproduct of my recent less-than-perfect moods, but... still. I don't think it would be very good to make this a habit.

180 degrees.

My mood seems to take those turns a lot nowadays.

A few thoughts have been running through my mind recently.

... a few prominent thoughts.

Recurrently.

This is a bad thing. Mostly.

These are idiotic thoughts. They are compelling me to consider doing (and in some cases, to actually do, for some Goddess-knows-why reason) very, very stupid things.

There are times when I want to be left alone, and there are times when I crave the company of only that one person.

Yeah. Like that's ever going to happen.

So while this one person's been fucking with my mind (inadvertently, I'm sure), I find myself making excuses. Lots of them. And they're stupid. Making me feel stupid.

Like today, I did several very stupid things. People might have noticed. It's hard not to notice.

And then mood whiplash and happiness and rainbows and then FUCKING HELL WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU RACHEL.

Not looking forward to tomorrow.

... I lied. I kind of am?

For all the completely wrong reasons, but still.

I like to think of myself as having a way with words. It's one of those few things I think I'm actually good at. Or at least decent enough.

But then I think about the things that I shouldn't think about but I do anyway in that moment when see him and I shouldn't be thinking about things like that but I end up doing so anyway and FUCK

... It's probably not what you think it is. Because I shouldn't be telling anybody. And I'm not trying to be cryptic or enigmatic or any crap like that.

Don't you hate when you can't tell somebody something, but they would only understand why you can't tell them if they knew what exactly it is but you can't tell them what it is and it just carries on in a vicious circle and and and

I wish I could tell people. Or at least that one person. Just that one person, because he should know but at the same time he shouldn't because this is all so fucked up.

And... it would feel nice just to get some of this shit off my chest. Fuck, I wish.

A,SDJLFHGLASJOFWEFA'EJFASD

FOURTH PLACE

FIRST OF ALL NON-ART SCHOOLS

SO PROUD OF EVERYONE

FUCKING LOVE YOU ALL

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

HYPED UP.

WE'RE FAMOUS LULZ

WE TOTES NEED TO GO KARAOKE AFTERPARTY TO CELEBRATE NO MATTER WHAT THE RESULTS ARE WE HAVE THE MOST AMAZINGEST FAMILY EVER AMIRITE ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Earthworm dissection.

(while trying to get the pin unstuck from the tray)
Shander: ... Damn, I think he pushed it in too deep.
Me: That's what she said.
Shander: ...
Me: ...
Both of us: xDDDDDDD

I'm the slickest.

Bandwagon.

Jumping on it.

Saw Jason's most recent blog post about the diagnosis thing with the shapes. Decided to try.

"Fond of tradition, but attached more to the joy of human interaction, you are often a beacon of hope to those members of society who have lost faith or who are in need of succor. You are often emotional, and this emotionality is rarely held in check. Kind and helping by nature, when affronted you will explode, and just as suddenly when the pain has passed return to normalcy again. On occasion this quick and vibrant emotionality is translated into a life on the stage or screen. You have a strong sense of right and wrong, but can sometimes be left confused and uncertain in times of stress or when tough decisions must be made. You avoid conflict, tending to stay out of trouble in hopes that the group will benefit most from this behavior. Because you have trouble putting your own needs first, you will be put in much stress if you find yourself in an unequal relationship, one in which your partner is not as giving as you are."

... kind of scary, really.